Larsen looked up with that queer little expression on his face that I had come to recognize as preceding something that disagreed with me, and said:
"Impudence by who, Boss?"
"By him, of course! I'm the Boss here, and, if there is any kow-towing to be done, he's the fellow to do it!"
Larsen didn't say another word, but shook his head.
"Larsen," said I testily, "you seem to take delight in pointing out flaws in my management!"
Again I saw that queer expression come into his face.
"Management," I cried, "not mismanagement! What was wrong with what I did just now?"
Larsen did sometimes make me mad, but I usually found on thinking things over that he was very logical in his reasoning. I had learned a lot from him and I had come to depend on him a good deal, and he had got me so that he was quite free with me.
He walked toward me, leaned against a counter, and said:
"Boss, drummers like him makes money. More money than most retailers. From money angle he is as good as people he sells to. He must know goods to sell them. In that way he is equal to the merchant. He travels over the country and he gets lots of ideas—and all that. He generally has good schooling and comes from good home. He is, in how he lives and who he knows, equal of his customers. Then, again, store keepers would be in a h——"